Like a Lighthouse
by Sibyll
Summary: Aithre is the heir of one of Valdemar's oldest families, but her life is about to change drastically.
1. Varis Keep

To avoid annoyance, this will only be posted with this chapter: Disclaimer: I do not own Valdemar, nor do I own any of the ideas contained therein. The Companions and Heralds are the intellectual property of Mercedes Lackey. This story, in future chapters will contain a relationship between two women. If you don't like it, don't read it.  
  
Aithre kept her eyes locked on the empty plate in front of her. She couldn't believe her father had drug out the beaten silver place settings for the benefit of this newest suitor. Perhaps it was because this newest suitor was a lordling that had a title, but held no land but that on which his great house in the city of Haven stood. The heavy ceramic that, on every other day, was good enough for one of the oldest families in Valdemar was not good enough for this merchant cum lord that sat upon the co- Consorts council. A very successful and extremely wealthy merchant, to be sure, but in Aithre's eyes, a bought title was not worth much. It was certainly not worth all the respect that her father seemed to be paying this man.  
  
This latest was number thirteen in what promised to be a never ending succession of eligible men. Rich and poor, young and old, all wanted one thing; the hand of Lord Varis' only child; her hand. Aithre was grateful that her father's concern for her happiness and the fate and name of the family led him to weed out the weak minded and rotten. This Lord Podargos seemed to be in the latter category. His hard eyes had a possessive glint as he surveyed the Great Hall of Varis Keep from his place at the high table. Podargos was much too sure of himself, Aithre thought. Rather than meet his gaze, for she did not like what she saw in his eyes, Aithre kept her head bent.  
  
In addition to her own uneasy feeling concerning the man, there had been rumors that he was unkind to those servants of the Varis household that had been serving him. Podargos's own servants and those members of his entourage that had accompanied him from the city were thin and nervous, and had a haunted look about their eyes that never seemed to dissipate.  
  
Peering through the fall of auburn hair that shaded her eyes, Aithre could see her father's grim expression as Bergin, his trusted advisor and retainer, whispered something in his Lord's ear from his place at Varis's left. She knew Bergin had heard of Podargos rather reprehensible behavior, and judging by her father's frown, Bergin was informing him of just that. Varis was of the mind that one could judge the character of a man by how he treated those that were not of his station. Aithre tended to agree with him. Varis turned his gaze to the man at his right, his mouth a hard line, and his eyes cold. Podargos was oblivious to the fact that his status as potential suitor had been stripped from him before the meal had even begun.  
  
The meal was an eternity of torment. Aithre, in her position at Podargos's right, had to endure the patronizing questions and sermons of their guest. She was lectured on domestic duty, the rule of the co-Consorts, Kris and Lyra, the economy and other things that she forgot in her boredom. Even after letting her diplomatic training take control, she fought a losing battle to keep a polite, interested expression on her face. She was lucky that Podargos interpreted her brief lapses into boredom as vapidity; this kept her from having to speak to him about any subject of weight.  
  
Shortly after dessert had been cleared away, Lord Varis rose and bowed to the man at his right. "Lord Podargos, if you will excuse me, it is time that I retire. The minstrel will remain as long as you wish to remain in the hall. I wish you a pleasant evening." Ignacio Varis was a man of impeccable manners, and Aithre admired him for his ability to maintain a pleasant façade even when his hospitality had been taken advantage of. Podargos did not rise as Varis took his leave. He did not even bother to take his gaze from the minstrel, a pretty young lady that had recently finished her studies at Bardic Collegium.  
  
Aithre's father looked her way, his expression inscrutable. "Aithre, if you will come with me." This drew Podargos's attention from the minstrel. In fact, he had the nerve to look vaguely put out.  
  
Aithre rose and dropped a small curtsey in the direction of their guest. "Goodnight, my Lord," she said, trying to keep the relief from her voice. She fell into step with her father exiting the hall in the direction of his study. Behind them, Bergin and another of her father's advisors, Malte, excused themselves from the table. Aithre knew that her father would want to talk to her about Podargos, although she didn't know why he required the presence of Bergin and Malte. She gathered she would find out soon enough. 


	2. Starry Path

The Lord's study of Varis keep is a handsome room. Located in one of the towers, expensive glass windows span the east and west walls, flanked at the north and south by two great hearths. Any wall space not occupied by window or hearth was covered with bookshelves of dark mahogany. A large desk stands in front of the west windows and a heavy table in front of the east. The floors are covered by woven tapestry rugs from a kingdom far to the south.  
  
Aithre feels comfortable in this room. After she finished her mandatory, elementary schooling at the local temple, this study became her classroom. She spent hours buried deep within tomes learning the history and statecraft that she will need to take care of her lands and people when her father passes on to the Havens.  
  
Lord Varis settled himself behind his desk as Aithre, Bergin and Malte make themselves comfortable in the leather armchairs ranged in a semi- circle in front of it. A quick glance at her father's advisors tells Aithre that they are feeling just as grim about this as the Lord they serve. This was not going to be a pleasant meeting.  
  
"Well, I am quite glad that meal is over." Varis bared his teeth in a painful sort of smile. "That man is ignorant, obnoxious, and no more a proper lord than I am a donkey. I cannot believe I even asked him to come here! Old age cannot have affected my faculties that much." He sighted and turned his gaze to Aithre. "I am sorry to have put you through that, my dear. And I thank you for maintaining your decorum. An admirable feat, certainly."  
  
"I have lived through worse, father. I distinctly remember a few punishments that were worse than that meal. But I must say that despite the large amounts of manure I shoveled during my month helping the stable boys, the company of the animals was rather superior to that of our noble friend." She winked and he chuckled. "How are you going to break it to him? Podargos was awfully sure that he would be the next Lord Varis."  
  
"My Lord, I hear the woods around the hunting lodge are beautiful this time of year," Bergin said with a sly smile. "I am sure that Malta and I can deal with letting our guest down gently while you and Aithre attend to some 'urgent business' at one or another of your holdings."  
  
"Yes, my Lord. Bergin and I can handle him quite nicely while you and Aithre have a few days of much needed rest." Malta smiled a little nastily. "We might even let him get home in one piece." One of the young ladies that Podargos had mistreated was Malta's young niece. Normally she was employed in Aithre's bower, helping to clothe the keep. She had offered to help the staff in serving the guest and his entourage, and for her pains had been lecherously pinched several times.  
  
"Now boys," Varis said with a note of admonition in his voice, "I am not against a little rough treatment, but let's make sure that nothing permanent happens to our esteemed visitor." He grinned, and the corners of his deep blue eyes crinkled, a true smile this time. "And to think I got out the nice dishes for that lout. Maira will have my ears! That silver was positively filthy." Maira was the housekeeper, and she ignored authority almost to the point of insubordination. She was not afraid to give anyone, Lord or Lady, a good dressing down, and ran the household with an iron fist.  
  
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Varis." Bergin said kindly. "He seemed a different person when we met him in Haven last summer. I wouldn't have thought that he would be so two faced."  
  
"I know. And I will feel much better when that cretin is no longer under my roof. I am more upset that this is going poorly for you, Aithre. I know it was uncomfortable for me when my mother began parading young women in front of me, but I don't know any better way to go about this marriage business."  
  
There was a long silence. "What if," Bergin said thoughtfully, "Aithre travels with us to Haven when we go next? I know it isn't customary to have the entire family off the holdings at once, but there doesn't seem to be any way around that. In Haven, Aithre will have her pick of the young gentlemen, and she is a better judge of character than my Lord has shown himself to be."  
  
Varis looked like he wanted to stick his tongue out at Bergin. The had been friends since each was a toddler, so Bergin felt completely secure in poking fun at Varis. "Well, my Lord Bergin," Varis began in an exaggeratedly unctuous voice, "that sounds fine with me. Aithre?"  
  
"Fine with me as well. My Lord Bergin, I wish to thank you for so generously offering to stay behind at the keep and take care of things so both my father and myself may travel to the city this summer." Aithre grinned at him. "It was so very noble of you."  
  
Bergin's face fell, and Varis snickered. Bergin loved the yearly trips to Haven, even if he complained about traveling every minute they were on the road.  
  
"Well Bergin, it looks as if you won't have to undergo the stresses of travel this year." Varis said, still grinning. "Malta, I hope you don't complain as much as old-man Bergin does, or we may have to gag you."  
  
As the men continued to merrily insult one another, Aithre pushed their bickering to the back of her mind. She had not been to Haven in some years, not since she had been eligible to marry. In fact, she had not been since her mother had died. The prospect was exciting, and a little scary. Was she really an able judge of character? Her father seemed to think so. Podargos had shown her that appearances can be deceiving. She sighed heavily. The realities of choosing a husband were much more difficult than she had ever expected.  
  
"If you vultures will excuse me, I am off to my bed." She rose and smoothed her green velvet dress with her palms. "If I recall correctly, we have an early morning tomorrow. You had better not be up till all hours with these two scoundrels, father. I don't want to hear any complaining on the ride to the hunting lodge tomorrow." She walked to the door. "Pleasant dreams father. Uncles." She closed the door softly behind her and paused. There were two ways to her quarters from her father's study: through the courtyard, or the long way through the guest quarters along the western wall of the keep. She would go through the courtyard. She did not want to encounter Lord Podargos roaming the corridors of the guest quarters.  
  
The late spring night was cool, but not uncomfortable as Aithre traversed the gravel paths that ran through the gardens of the courtyard. She heard footsteps crunching upon the gravel behind her, and assuming that one of the keep's guards was on patrol, Aithre did not look back.  
  
Strong arms grabbed her from behind, and she felt the cool sharpness of a blade at her throat. "Hello, my pretty." Podargos. His voice was strangely void of inflection. Then Aithre felt the blade move across her throat. She tried to scream.  
  
Aithre could see the stars. Why was she still in the garden? The memory hit her like a ton of bricks. Her hand flew to her throat, but the skin beneath her fingers was smooth, and her pulse thumped steadily under it. Was she dead?  
  
She turned her head. This certainly was not the garden. Aithre was lying on the middle of a path that shone like the stars that punctuated the sky above her head. Unfamiliar stars, she realized, constellations she had not seen in any of her studies. She rolled over and pushed herself up to her knees. Wherever she was, it was big. She could see no end to the darkness, and the path stretched on in both directions until it disappeared.  
  
Wait! Was one of the stars moving towards her? Her eyes followed the pinprick of light. It grew in size as it approached, and by the time it hovered next to her on the path, it was as large as her head. The air around the strange star shimmered and shifted as Aithre started in frightened fascination, making her a little nauseous. All of a sudden, where the star had been, was a man! He was tall, with an unruly shock of black hair that hid his eyes. His skin was sun browned and his face craggy. Smile lines were deeply etched around his mouth and dark eyes that reflected the stars surrounding the path.  
  
Aithre turned to run, more willing to face what might lay further down the path than to see what the intentions of this strange creature were. :Wait! Childling, I am here to help. You have nothing to fear from me: His deep mind voice echoed through her head.  
  
"What." her voice cracked. "What are you? Aithre was shaking. "Where am I?"  
  
:What I am is not important. But this is the void. Your spirit rode here on the power that was released when your blood was spilt.: The man shook his hair out of his eyes with a practiced toss of his head. His eyes did more than reflect the stars, they were stars.  
  
Aithre had heard stories of the void and it's sometimes inhabitants, and she knew that anyone with star fields for eyes was far from ordinary. "Are you an avatar of the Starry-Eyed? Do you serve the Goddess?"  
  
He chuckled. : I am nothing so complicated as an avatar. But I guess you could say I do serve the starry-eyed one. At least she would say so. I like to think I am her equal. Her opposite.: He smiled a little, like he was laughing at an old joke that only made sense to him and one other person. Apparently that other happened to be a Goddess.  
  
"V.Vkandis?" Aithre thought she was going to faint. A God. Who was she to meet a God?  
  
:Clever girl. You have just as much right as any to meet me. And you are in great need.: He took her hand. Vkandis's fingers tingled slightly in Aithre's, like there was power moving beneath his skin. :You are not meant to die like this, Aithre. You must not let this man take your life. Go back to the waking world and reclaim your body.:  
  
Aithre felt a great light in her mind, and the starry path began to fade. She could feel the pain that her body was in; could feel the horrible things that had been done to it. She did not want it! She wrapped her thoughts around the light in her mind, holding on to it with all her strength as she was pulled back into her body. :No! Don't make me go back.: The starry path faded completely, and as Aithre slipped into true unconsciousness, she thought she heard Vkandis gasp. 


	3. The Heir

A week had passed since the plain box wagon drawn by four impressive blood bays, all bearing the crest of the Varis family had arrived at the House of Healing. Rumors as to whom it carried, and what was wrong with them flew around the Palace like levin bolts. From the blues, Herald- Trainee Natasha had heard that the Lord Varis was deathly ill. The bardic trainees had told her that the Varis heir had been attacked. And the grays were of the mind that both Lord and heir had contracted some horrible, mage created illness. She sighed. Even the heir to the throne didn't get better gossip that the average inhabitant of the Palace. Her mother, Queen Lyra, knew exactly who was in the wagon, and what had happened to him or her, but wasn't talking.  
  
Natasha was bored, and boredom drove her to gossip mongering. Two days ago she had completed her equestrian training under Herald Sherrill. A month before that, she had finished the normal round of classes that Herald-Trainees underwent. She was due her whites very soon, but had nothing to occupy her time until her first circuit.  
  
:Why don't you offer to help at the House of Healing.: Marpessa was eavesdropping on Natasha's internal monologue, again. :You are a trained mindhealer, Tasha. You always seem to forget that little fact.:  
  
:Do you think I could handle it, 'Pessa? Comforting the odd trainee- in-distress is a little different than dealing with people that are confronting life threatening illness or injury.:  
  
Natasha felt a wave of confidence and love wash over her. :I am sure you will do wonderfully, Tasha.:  
  
:You are awfully good at that unconditional love and unshakeable confidence thing, 'Pessa. Who should I talk to about helping out? You know my aversion to Healers.: The winter after she was chosen, she and some of the other trainees had been ice skating on the stretch of the Terilee River that ran through Companion's field. After losing a few races, Natasha had come up with a way to use Marpessa's superior speed to win some. She had fashioned a makeshift harness that allowed Marpessa to run along the river bank while pulling her chosen on skates. After practicing with the harness a bit, she had demonstrated her invention to the other trainees. Races were organized, and Natasha actually won a few before hitting a flaw in the ice at top speed and breaking her leg. Her mother had thought it would be a good lesson to let the leg heal by itself, keeping Natasha bed ridden in the House of Healing for a month before she could use crutches. She had crutched away from Healers as fast as she could, and not been back since.  
  
:You should talk to Marrta. She is a mindhealer herself, and a very powerful Empath. And she is close with Talia. According to Rolan, she is in her office. You can talk with her right now.: Rolan had this uncanny ability that allowed him to locate almost anyone associated with the three Collegia, as long as they were in the city of Haven. Natasha thought that the other Companions were a bit in awe of the Grove Born's homing beacon.  
  
Natash headed out of the Garden and across the lawn that separated the Palace from the House of Healing. Healer Marrta's office was near one of the building's side entrances, so Tasha headed there, bypassing the large main door. The Council started discussing the line of succession if she sneezed. Gods knew what they would do if the Heir was seen walking into the House of Healing.  
  
Tasha knocked on the plain wooden door that was distinguished from the dozens of identical ones stretching up and down the hall by a brass nameplate that proclaimed the Healer's name and specialty. Marrta worked with patients to overcome the stress that often followed a traumatic incident. Her patients had lost limbs, senses, Companions, or loved ones. Marrta helped them regain their balance within life and was especially good at counseling groups of people.  
  
"Enter." Marrta's voice was soft and her rolled r's proclaimed her place of origin to be near the Comb, the mountain range that separated Valdemar from Rethwellen. Natasha stepped into the room and closed the door gently behind her. The woman behind the desk was tiny, and looked as if she hadn't gotten much sleep recently. There were dark circles under her large green eyes, her bright red hair was tousled, and her dark green robes were creased.  
  
"Healer Marrta, do you have a few minutes? I would like to talk to you about volunteering some of my time to help out around here." Natasha was really nervous now. Despite Marpessa's love and confidence in her abilities, there really was a world of difference between what she had used her gift for, and what she would be required to do with the patients here.  
  
"I always have time for a fellow empath, Herald-Trainee Natasha." The healer gave Tasha a weary smile. "And as for volunteering, any time you would be willing to give us would be appreciated. We can always use any extra help, especially the help of someone that garners praise from Herald Talia. She has complimented your abilities on many occasions."  
  
Natasha blushed at the compliment. Praise from strangers made her a little uncomfortable. "It is my duty as Herald and mindhealer to use my abilities to help those who need help. When I was so busy, I always hoped that I would get a few days off, but now that I have the foreseeable future to do what I will with my time, I don't think I can do anything but work." She gave a little grimace. "I guess what they say about Heralds is true."  
  
Marrta laughed. "It most certainly is! You don't stop till you're dead. Every Herald is the same." Her laughter melted into seriousness. "Are you ready to get to work?" Natasha nodded solemnly. "I think I have the perfect patient for you to work with. She is about your age, and I think you will have quite a bit in common." She rose, attempted to smooth her robes with her palms, and sighed. "I'll tell you about her as we walk."  
  
The patient Natasha was to be working with was called Aithre. She was 18, two years Natasha's junior, and the heir to the vast Varis holdings. Almost two weeks ago, she had had her throat slit, and was raped repeatedly. Her father had rushed her to Haven under the care of a healer, hoping that the Healer's Collegium could do something for her severed vocal cords. The Healers could do nothing. In fact they were amazed she was even alive. Her father had remained behind to deal with the perpetrator. Natasha hoped that they did more than just 'deal' with him.  
  
:'Pessa, are you hearing this! This girl has lived through a nightmare!: Natasha knew that she had to keep herself under control. If she felt too much for this girl, she would begin projecting. So she thrust her emotions at Marpessa, knowing that the Companion could shunt them off into the void, where their energies could be reabsorbed.  
  
:I know, love. And she is hurting. The Companions can feel her hurt, even through the shields that the Healers have placed around her.: Marpessa gave her a mental caress. :Be strong.:  
  
Marrta was still talking. "Talia and I have been shielding her since she arrived. She has had very little contact with anyone besides myself, the nightshift Healer, Holly, and her father's advisor, Bergin. She is projecting at such a strength that even the ungifted become uncomfortable around her after awhile. Would you test her for mindspeech? If she had it, perhaps it would help to lift the burden of her disability."  
  
"Certainly I will." Natasha could sense the shields around the door they were approaching. Their strength made the air tingle and the hairs on the back of Tasha's neck rise. Tasha gasped. She felt Marpessa insinuate herself into the front of her mind. Marrta gave her a strange look. "Marpessa being nosy. I guess she wants to ride along."  
  
Marrta laughed at this. Marpessa was very curious about new people. Curious enough to even speak to some of them, breaking the very old rule that dictated a Companion spoke only to their Herald. The Companion's tendencies had become something of a legend around the Collegium, much to the dismay of Rolan and the more senior Companions.  
  
"Shield tightly, Natasha. And clamp down on anything you might feel. We don't yet know if she is receptive." Natasha obeyed, but left a tiny pinprick hole in her shields. It always helped her to know what someone was feeling. Marrta opened the door and stepped in, Natasha close on her heels.  
  
The sick-room was spartan, as such places usually are. The single window looked out on the healer's garden, and the sun of the late spring day shone through welcomingly. "Aithre, this is Herald-Trainee Natasha. Natasha, Aithre Varis." Natasha was surprised at the appearance of the girl on the bed. Aithre was skinny, with unkempt auburn hair that fell just past her shoulders, and light green eyes that seemed to take over half of her thin face. A well cut, high necked dressing gown covered the horrific scar that was the remnant of her attack. She did not, in the slightest, resemble the young noblewomen that Natasha knew.  
  
From the hole in her shields, Natasha could feel a thread of fear, laced through with undirected anger, begin to insinuate itself through her shields, weakening them. With a finger of her own power, Tasha plugged the hole, fixing any damage that the other girl's rampant emotions had caused.  
  
:Natasha.: Marpessa's mindvoice echoed within her mind; strong despite their physical distance and the strong shields surrounding both Natasha and the sick room. :She has the ability to mindspeak.:  
  
:That is a relief, Chosen.: Tasha was truly glad that Aithre has the ability to mindspeak. Clear communication with her healers would make her recovery a great deal easier. Natasha pushed a gentle tendril of power towards the patient's mind, brushing against it. The girl look at her, startled. :Hello, Aithre.: Tasha said in a soft mindvoice. Aithre's eyes widened further, her mouth moving mutely. :Would you like to try?: The girl nodded hungrily. :Imagine a thread passing between your mind and mine. Push your words down the thread, just as you would direct your voice when speaking. Understand?: Aithre nodded resolutely, her mouth set in a grim line, brow furrowed in concentration.  
  
:Hello?: Her mindvoice was weak, and a little doubting, but it was there, just the same.  
  
:Excellent. You can push a little harder. It will make it easier for me to hear you.: Tasha smiled at her, in what she hoped was an encouraging manner.  
  
:Thank you so much!: The voice was stronger now. :I thought I was going to go mad writing on that slate for the rest of my life.: She tossed a grimace at the slate and chalk stick sitting on the bedside table. :Well, my gratitude aside, is there any particular reason you are here?: Despite all that she had been through, Aithre was remained a self-possessed young woman. She had the blunt politeness that only the very powerful could afford. Natasha grinned.  
  
:A visit. Possible liberation.: Aithre looked ecstatic. :Only temporary, of course.:  
  
:Of course.: Aithre looked disgruntled. :I suppose you are a better keeper than the healers that have been hanging around.: Her mindvoice changed colors abruptly, now tinged green with excitement. :It is a beautiful day. I would so like to go out, even if it is to just sit in the garden.: She looked wistfully out the window.  
  
Marpessa pushed herself into the front of Tasha's mind; :Bring her to the field, Chosen. Please?: 'Pessa was curious enough to start groveling if Natasha didn't acquiesce. She stifled a giggle.  
  
:Calm down horse! Why don't you haul your lazy tail up here so you can escort us down. I'm not so sure of Aithre's strength right now. It may be good to have a large white lump for her to lean on.: Natasha could feel Marpessa's mental grumble in response to the jibe, but the mare didn't return the insults because she was currently focused on running full tilt to Healer's without injuring some innocent bystander.  
  
"Marrta, would it be alright if I took Aithre down to Companion's Field for a short walk?" The healer looked a little less than thrilled at this suggestion. "Don't worry, healer. Marpessa has volunteered her services if your patient tires. I will return her in one piece shortly before dinner. And it is a beautiful day." The last was said with a wheedling not in her voice. Even the Heir resorted to dirty tricks, now and again.  
  
Marrta looked over at her patient, who had snatched up the slate and written; 'Please?', in large letters across it. "Oh, alright." Marta said grudgingly. In truth, she was glad that her patient had shown such friendly interest in the Heir.  
  
Aithre grinned and swung her feet out of the bed. :Out! I have to get dressed!: She flapped her hands at the two women and gave Natasha a mental shove out the door. :Thank you, Natasha.: Aithre's mindvoice said shyly.  
  
Natasha smiled at the younger girl, who was doing a wonderful job of holding herself together. :It was my pleasure, my Lady. But you will probably be cursing my name when the reaction headache sets in.: With that, she left Aithre to her clothes.  
  
Outside the door, Marrta looked at the Heir with a relieved expression etched clearly across her features. "Aithre's Gifts are a relief. I could see her becoming frustrated with that tablet every time she had a conversation that required more than a few words. I would have had her tested sooner, but due to the sensitive nature of the incident, I thought it best to limit her contact to only the most discreet until she was ready to handle more." Marrta knew of the general penchant for gossip among the court residence, and had done her best to prevent the spreading of harmful rumors.  
  
Aithre's voice startled Natasha. :Natasha, who is Marpessa?: There was no weakness in the mindvoice, despite the shields and Aithre's inexperience.  
  
:Marpessa is my Companion. You will meet her in a minute. She is waiting outside for us. You'd better hurry before she kicks down the doors. She can be a pest about meeting new people.:  
  
"How strong are her gifts, anyway?" Marrta's question jerked Natasha back to the conversation.  
  
Natasha grinned at her. "Strong enough that she just mindspoke me from behind the shields."  
  
Marrta looked a little goggle-eyed. "No wonder she ate through them so quickly. She should be taught to ground, center and shield as soon as possible, shouldn't she."  
  
"I'll take care of it myself, but her energy reserves will need a little while to replenish themselves after all that her body has undergone." Natasha gave the healer a confident smile. "She should have the basics in a week or so."  
  
The door opened, and Aithre stepped out, now clad in a high necked brown dress of light linen, holding a thick shawl of dark green. :I am ready.: She held the shawl up so Marrta could see it. :So I don't catch a chill: Tasha could feel Aithre pushing her thought toward Marrta.  
  
:She hasn't mindspeech, Aithre. I'll tell her: "Aithre said to tell you that she'll be careful not to catch a chill," Tash relayed to Marrta. "Good girl." Marrta nodded approvingly. "And sensible shoes. I won't have my patients traipsing around outdoors in those ridiculous slippers that so many highborn insist on wearing."  
  
Aithre smiled and gave a mental chuckle. :My father would tan my hide if I ever wore those things anywhere that wasn't a formal occasion. Besides, they make my arches sore. No support.:  
  
Tasha laughed outright at that. "I agree completely. I hate those things. I'm lucky I can wear my Grays almost anywhere, even court meals. For some reason, slippers just don't look right with uniforms."  
  
:Court meals?: Aithre gave her an inquiring look.  
  
Tasha made a face. "Court dinners, council sessions, endless balls. Heir's duty. Must keep up appearances."  
  
:Heir!: Aithre's eyes were wide. She look as if she didn't know whether to curtsey or grovel. :You are the Heir?:  
  
Tasha put a comforting hand on Aithre's arm. :I am only the Heir when I am at court functions. At any other time, I am simply Herald-Trainee Natasha.: Tasha grinned at her. :Besides, you are an Heir yourself. I could call you Lady Varis and you could call me Princess Natasha and we could act completely ridiculous.:  
  
Aithre made a face at that suggestion. :I hate being Ladied by everyone. I am hardly a Lady by the usual standard of the word. It will be nice to have a friend that I can swap war stories with, and I never let friends call me anything but Aithre.: She smiled at Natasha.  
  
:And I never let friends call me anything but Natasha, Tasha or Tash. Take your pick. My name shortens up quite nicely. :  
  
Aithre held out her hand. :Pleased to meet you, Herald-Trainee Natasha.:  
  
Tasha clasped her wrist, glad that Aithre had opened up, despite the emotional and physical ride she had been subject to. :The pleasure is mine, Aithre Veris. Let's get out of here.: 


	4. Burn

Marpessa was waiting for them when they exited the main doors of the House of Healing. A young Healer-Trainee was eyeing her warily from a position well out of the range of her teeth. He was holding a broom. :Natasha!: 'Pessa looked as if she could barely contain herself. She fairly pranced over to her Chosen. :That young scamp was chasing me with a broom! As if I was a simple horse. Children these days...:  
  
Natasha cut her off., speaking aloud for the young Trainee's benefit. "He probably didn't know what to think! I am fairly certain you came skittering in here as if your tail was alight, acting for all the world like an escaped horse out for a jaunt!" Had Marpessa been physically capable, she would have been staring at her feet, drawing pictures on the cobblestones. "Now, you can prance yourself over to the young man and apologize, missy." Marpessa turned away dejectedly and fairly plodded over to the young man, her hooves ringing out cheerfully despite her sullen attitude. She stuck her nose out towards the young man, who gave it a firm rub. Chuckling, Natasha could see Aithre next to her struggling to keep a straight face.  
  
"I am sorry for chasing after you, m'am. But with all your carrying on, you were going to wake the patients, and we couldn't have that." 'Pessa gave him a bump on the shoulder with her nose, leaving a slobber mark on the shoulder of his dusty uniform, and turned back to her Chosen.  
  
:Conscientious little chit, isn't he?: She snorted. :Satisfied? Can we please go now?:  
  
"Hold on to your tail, horse." Natasha turned to the young Healer-Trainee. "Young man, you show remarkable dedication to the peace and quiet of your patients. Feel free to come after Marpessa with a broom anytime she causes a ruckus. It may do her some good."  
  
The Trainee gave her a grin, his freckled face crinkling merrily. He saluted. "Yes m'am!"  
  
"At ease, soldier." Natasha turned towards Aithre and her Companion. "Ladies?" They fell into step together on the path that led to Companion's Field., Aithre flanked by Natasha on her left and Marpessa to her right.  
  
Aithre was having a hard time keeping a grin from her face. :So that is a Companion? Not at all what I was expecting, at least not after all the stories I've heard.:  
  
:They aren't all so silly, I assure you. In fact, just like us, they all have their little quirks and fallibilities. I happened to get stuck with a nosey, goofy, gossip.: She stuck her tongue out at the Companion. :I suppose I should introduce you formally. Marpessa, this Aithre Varis. Aithre, Marpessa the Pest.: Marpessa lifted her upper lip in a poor imitation of a snarl.  
  
:She is always so mean to me. Hit her for me, Aithre?:  
  
:But...: Aithre looked startled. :I didn't think Companions spoke to anyone that wasn't their Chosen?:  
  
:Marpessa tends to ignore the rules, much to the dismay of the powers that be.: Marpessa snorted, looking very satisfied with herself. :She thinks rules are silly.:  
  
:Of course rules are silly! Why shouldn't I talk to whomever I chose? It's not like I am going to go babbling state secrets or...: Natasha could feel the companions surprise as she halted her speech mid-sentence. The Companion mentally withdrew from the conversation.  
  
:She's off being nosey again. Just as well, we've almost made it to the field. It's just beyond this next wall.:  
  
:The grounds really are lovely. I hope I get to see all of them before I go home again.:  
  
:I am sure we can arrange that. We can probably have some fun in the city itself, if you would like. There are a few places that I am sure you would enjoy.:  
  
:That would be wonderful! The last time I visited Haven I was quite young. I don't remember much of the city.: She smiled at Natasha. Losing much of her chilly self-possession at the excitement of seeing some of the Valdemar's largest city.  
  
:Why haven't you come more often? I know you father and his advisors come once a year. When they are at court, I always end up sitting next to Bergin at meals. I quite like him.:  
  
:Ever since my mother died, my father doesn't like both of us to be off the holdings at once. When I was younger, it was for safety reasons, but I guess it is just practical, now. Bergin can travel with him and I can take care of things at home.: She grinned slyly at Natasha. :I bet I know why you like Bergin. He always says rude things to my father about courtiers. And I bet you eavesdrop.:  
  
Natasha blushed. :How did you know that? I guess I can't help myself. Most of the things he says are quite accurate.: She was a bit incredulous that Aithre had guessed something that she had told no one.  
  
:I used to do it, too. He can be quite wicked.:  
  
:Quite.: Natasha was overjoyed that she had so quickly gained a new friend. She really had quite a bit in common with the Varis heir. And if Aithre was capable of managing estates the size of her father's for the months each year he was in the capital, she was probably quite an extraordinary girl.  
  
They were nearing the edge of the grounds when Tasha saw a familiar figure approaching them on the path. She groaned. :Here comes one of mother's and uncle's council members. He is a prick. I'll get rid of him.: Tasha was so absorbed in manufacturing some way to get rid of the man that she did not notice that Aithre had frozen, her wide, fearful eyes locked on the figure coming towards them.  
  
:Natasha!: 'Pessa sounded frantic. :Something is wrong with Aithre!: Tasha lifted her shields a bit, and quickly slammed them back into place. Fear and anger were rolling off Aithre in waves so thick that Tasha was almost consumed in the short seconds she had dropped her shields.  
  
:Natasha! Keep him away from her. That is the man that hurt her! Guards are on the way. Just keep him away! Don't let him mess with her, her mind is too fragile. I'll worry about Aithre!:  
  
Natasha could feel the efforts the mare was making to calm Aithre. She didn't need to be calm. She dropped her shields and let Aithre's emotions wash over her. Fear, anger, hatred; all directed at this man. Natasha steeled herself against the fear, and let the anger cool inside her, becoming icy and strong.  
  
"Podargos." It was not a greeting, it was a warning. Her voice was frosty. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "If so much as the slightest sound comes out of your mouth, I will burn your mind to dust." She would kill this man, even if her only evidence against him was Marpessa's interpretation of Aithre's feelings. All she had to do was remember the scar on Aithre's throat, and taste the fear that held Aithre immobilized.  
  
The man had the nerve to smile. An unctuous smile that had all the charm of a rotting corpse. "Has my Lady Varis found a new suitor?" His voice was malicious, deliberately trying to provoke Natasha into action.  
  
Before Natasha had a chance to gather herself and use her mind magic to turn this man into a husk, she felt a white hot surge of power at her side. Aithre was glowing! Whorls and wisps of power the color of sunlight were dancing over her skin. Natasha could feel the shields that Marpessa was attempting to throw around Aithre, who brushed them off as if they were a small, annoying insect.  
  
Natasha looked at Aithre in shock. What kind of power was this? Aithre's clothes were burning away, her skin untouched, her hair was standing on end, and her eyes! They were black as the night sky and shot through with blazing stars!  
  
Marpessa squealed. Aithre's back arched, and a bolt of power arced from her to the blank faced man in front of them. The smell of melting flesh was horrible as Podargos began to drip. In seconds, all that was left was a puddle.  
  
Then the air began to hum. The sound grew louder, then everything seemed to contract in upon itself until power exploded outward from Aithre in a blinding flash. Everything went dark.  
  
Monarch's Own Talia jumped up from her desk when she felt the explosion of raw power. She sent a questioning thought to Rolan, who responded with a frantic picture of Natasha and the Varis girl in the gardens. Waves of pain and fear and anger radiated from both girls.  
  
She ran out of her quarters and began a mad sprint for the gardens where she knew Rolan was headed. Hasty footsteps behind her told her that other Heralds had felt the blast as she had.  
  
The garden was a picture of destruction. At its outer edges, leaves had been burned away from the plant life. Stone benches and statuary had melted into unrecognizable figures. Water had evaporated from the fountains, grass had been charred, and gravel blasted away, leaving only bare earth to mark the paths.  
  
As she approached the center of the blast, entire trees and bushes had disintegrated, leaving only blackened earth. There were four figures sprawled on the ground ahead of her, Rolan standing protectively over them. Using his teeth to warn off the guards that had beaten her there.  
  
Natasha and Aithre, naked and apparently unconscious, were huddled together between Marpessa and...and what in the name of the gods was that? A gold horse?  
  
"You, guards. Seal off the area. I want no one here but Heralds and Healers." She inserted a snap of command in her voice. She could question the ethics of the situation when this mess was cleaned up. The captain saluted her and barked some orders to his men. The moved off efficiently.  
  
Behind her, Talia could feel a ball of worry and fear approaching quickly. The Queen shot past; Talia snagged her arm. "Wait, Lyra. According to Rolan, she is fine, just unconscious. We need to wait for a mage."  
  
Lyra turned to face her Herald, her forehead creased with worry, normally smiling mouth a tight line. "Elspeth is coming." Lyra said tersely, as chiming hoofbeats approached from the direction the queen had come.  
  
Elspeth and Darkwind riding double on Gwena hurtled past Lyra and Talia. Jumping off the still moving Companion as the reached the prone figures. Before either of the mages could touch the girls, the golden horse lurched to its feet and hovered over them protectively, baring her teeth menacingly.  
  
:I am Halia. Who are you to touch my Chosen and her lifebonded?: The mare's mindvoice was deep and smooth.  
  
Next to Talia, Lyra gasped. "The mare's name is Halia. And Tasha is lifebonded!"  
  
The mare had mindspeech? But she certainly wasn't a companion. She sent a questioning thought to Rolan, who was merely watching the sun-bright mare warn off the mages. His feeling of calm snapped through her. If he was dealing with this patiently, then surely there was nothing for her to worry about.  
  
Darkwind bowed to the mare, keeping a respectful distance from her teeth. "I am Darkwind k'Treva, and this is my mate, Herald-Mage Elspeth. With your leave, we would like to take these young ladies to the House of Healing." The mare turned one appraising blue eye on the mage and Herald. She stepped back.  
  
:Very well. I believe Marpessa may also need assistance. She took the brunt of the explosion.:  
  
Elspeth and Darkwind shed the outer layers of their mage robes and slipped them around the girls' shoulders. Darkwind gathered Aithre in his arms and turned back to the mare, who bent her knees, allowing Darkwind to climb aboard her back without disturbing his burden. Elspeth did the same with her niece. Gwena and Halia then wheeled and cantered past the crowed of onlookers, towards the House of Healing.  
  
"Well. That was certainly interesting," Lyra said with an odd expression on her face.  
  
"You are taking this rather well, Lyra." Talia knew that had Jemmie been in Natasha's position, she would not have been so calm.  
  
"Neira kept telling me that Natasha hadn't been harmed, that she was only unconscious. But I am quite curious as to what is going on. That was quite a surge of power."  
  
"As am I. Never a dull moment around this place. What with mages and artificers, it is a wonder we haven't all been blown sky high."  
  
A group of Heralds had clustered around a strange looking puddle that lay not far from where Dirk and some others were assisting Marpessa to her feet. One of them, Jeri, called to her, "Talia, you might want to come have a look at this." The puddle was stinking and gelatinous, steaming faintly. Talia held her nose as she approached.  
  
"What do you think it is?" She asked of those standing around it.  
  
Jeri answered. "We think it might have been a man!" 


End file.
